


Say it With Flowers

by scribblemoose



Category: Bleach
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-11
Updated: 2009-08-12
Packaged: 2017-10-08 22:24:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/80106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemoose/pseuds/scribblemoose





	1. Chapter 1

Renji stuck his hands deep in the pockets of his jeans, and stared at the shop window. He'd been there for nearly half an hour already, and he was no closer to plucking up the courage to go inside.

This was a stupid idea. He should never have come. But a challenge was a challenge, and he wasn't about to let Matsumoto know he was too scared to go into a flower shop. Never mind that he'd never been in one before, never bought flowers before, come to that. It was only a shop. People went into shops all the time. And bought things. Even flowers.

Renji closed his eyes, counted to ten, and finally dragged one hand out of his pocket to open the door. But his fingers had no sooner wrapped around the lever than he heard someone say, "oh."

Renji knew that voice. It was Kurosaki's friend, the Quincy. Ishida. Lost his powers and now...

"You," he said.

"Renji," said Ishida, like a deep dark insult.

"Quincy," said Renji, with a smirk. "Skipping school?"

"I have a note. Which is more than can be said for you."

"Listen, I don't need schoolin'. Been there, done that. I'm a grown up, remember?"

Ishida raised one skeptical eyebrow. "You picked the wrong cover, then."

Renji frowned. "Yeah, well." If it had been up to him he would have picked something quite different and definitely grown up. School had been at Byakuya's insistence. If he didn't know better that might have been enough to make him think his Captain had a sense of humour.

"So, are you going in there, or are you just getting in the way?"

Renji's temper flared. Suddenly he longed to shove the kid against the shop door and...

Ishida was standing with his hands on his hips, one eyebrow raised, sun glinting off his glasses. His head tilted a little to the left.

Renji swallowed hard.

"I'm going in," he said.

"I'm waiting," Ishida said.

"I just-" Renji's stomach was wound tight; the urge to run away was almost irresistible. But he couldn't. Not until he'd gone in there and got the flowers. A dozen red roses. That's all he had to do. Go in and ask for a dozen red roses.

"Is something the matter?" Ishida asked.

"Nothing," Renji snapped. But Ishida wasn't taking the piss. He actually looked sympathetic.

"You've gone pale," Ishida observed. "D'you need to sit down or something?"

"No." The shaking would stop eventually. It had to.

"Okay. So are you going into the shop or not?"

"Are you?" said Renji, because it was the only thing that popped into his head.

"Yes, at least I would, except there's a stupid shinigami in the way."

"Oh alright!" Renji's hand slipped from the door handle, and he stumbled back. "Go right ahead. Stupid Quincy."

Ishida stepped forwards and opened the shop in one smooth, simple movement. The impossible thing, so easy for him. But he hesitated before he stepped over the threshold. "What d'you need?"

So tempting to ask. Matsumoto would never know. But something about the expression on Ishida's face stopped him. Instead he shook his head, gathered up all the courage he had, and followed Ishida into the shop.

Ten minutes later they emerged, Renji with an armful of roses; Ishida with a small, blue pot. Renji couldn't help but ask what it was for.

"Silk flowers," Ishida said. "Kurosaki wanted to give something to his sisters, but he was bothered that real flowers die. I said I'd make him a silk arrangement."

"Oh."

"In a misguided moment," Ishida added.

"I see."

"What about you? It's not valentine's day."

"No. It was sort of a bet. Matsumoto's bored, so..."

"Women can be dangerous when they're bored," Ishida said. "I noticed that."

"Yeah."

"Or maybe she just wanted flowers from you and you didn't get the hint."

That was a little too close to home. Renji looked at the slim bouquet in his arms and winced. Shit. The kid was probably right. Not that Matsumoto would want flowers from him, but she had a vivid imagination and he could imagine she might...

"I'm off back to school," Ishida said. "See you round."

"No!" Renji yelled.

"Um, it's okay. No world-shaking danger today. Just maths and possibly geography, which I'll need to take notes for to pass to Kurosaki, because he's training again."

"I can't face it," Renji blurted out. "Don't wanna go to school. I know a place round the corner where they sell good coffee...."

Ishida pushed his glasses up his nose in that flashy, conspicuously cool sort of way he had, and let out a little sigh. "Alright," he said. "But you're buying."

*


	2. Chapter 2

Renji sat on a slippery vinyl bench in a booth, staring at a cup of foamy brown liquid. He was regretting this already. It was just another part of this stupid world he didn't really understand.

Ishida sat opposite him, fingers curled around the stem of a glass containing froth the colour of bubblegum. It even had a cherry on top.

"What does that stuff taste of?" Renji asked. Anything to break the silence.

Ishida frowned at his milkshake. "Sort of pink," he said. "It's supposed to be strawberry."

A smirk twisted Renji's lips. "You like strawberries, huh?"

"Yes," said Ishida, and then realised what he meant. He looked down, pissed off, stirring his milkshake with its straw. "The fruit," he muttered, irritably.

"Of course." Renji noted that Ishida had blushed scarlet. It cheered him up a good deal. Enough for him to take a slurp of his coffee, which was pleasantly milky and not nearly as bitter as the stuff Inoue had made for him the other day.

"It must be very boring for you here," said Ishida.

"Yeah, pretty damn tedious."

"Lonely?"

Damn, why did the kid have to be so perceptive? "I guess."

"I know how you feel," said Ishida, softly. "It's not much fun being ordinary."

Renji glowered for a minute, not realising what Ishida meant. Then he remembered: the kid had lost his powers trying to save Rukia's life. "Yeah. No fun at all."

Ishida stirred his pink milkshake faster, whizzing the cherry around in the votex of thick foam.

"Has Kurosaki said anything about what happened to you?" Renji asked.

"I don't think he really notices. He doesn't act any differently, except for his ridiculous need to protect people all the time."

"He doesn't seem to suffer that where I'm concerned." Renji rubbed absently at his elbow; there was still a bruise from the last time they'd sparred.

"I'm used to being worth something," Ishida said. "I'm used to being better than most. Quincys are a proud people."

Renji bit back the instant smart response that flew into his head. It's not like he was in any position to talk right now. It was pretty obvious he was in disgrace; why else would Byakuya have sent him to this purgatory of waiting and, of all things, _school_? "Pride come before a fall, Rukia says."

Ishida nodded. "You must miss her."

"It's my fault she got hurt. I couldn't save her. I failed. I deserve to be here. You don't. What you did was fucking brave."

Renji gulped down most of his coffee while Ishida stared at him in disbelief. "Did you say-"

"Don't get excited," Renji said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I'll never mention it again."

"Thank you," said Ishida. He was blushing again.

Renji shrugged. "Forget it. No big deal."

"You acted bravely too," said Ishida. "Do you really think you were sent down here as a punishment?"

Renji didn't answer. He could still hear Byakuya's voice, cold and distant and so fucking _disappointed_.

"The others don't seem to think it's a punishment," Ishida continued.

"They're fools."

"What about Rukia?"

There was a pause. Ishida was watching Renji intently, as if he was some kind of science experiment. Renji ignored him, determined not to rise to the bait, staring fixedly at the table in front of him and hating every shiny, hard melamine inch of it.

Then Ishida said, "or isn't it Rukia you miss most of all?"

Something must have shown on Renji's face because even as he said, "you don't know what you're talking about," even as he pushed up from the table and stormed from the coffee house; he heard Ishida say "oh!", all surprised and startled and fucking hell, all he'd had to do is lie, why couldn't he have fucking lied, and shut Ishida up for good....

He'd made it out onto the street before Ishida grabbed his wrist. Renji's temper snapped and he whirled Ishida around, flung him into the alley by the shop and slammed him up against the wall before he even remembered he was dealing with a human. An ordinary, weak human, who somehow managed not to cry out even though his body must be screaming at him from the impact of fragile skin and muscle on hard brick.

"Byakuya?" Ishida said, eyes a little wide with disbelief.

"Tell me you don't know how it is," Renji hissed. "Tell me you don't know what it's like to be ignored and shoved around by the one person you actually respect. Tell me you can look Kurosaki in the eye, knowing you're weak as a squealing infant, and dare to offer him your stupid worthless idiot self, like he might actually have a use for you. Tell me you don't lie awake at night running over the fight a million times trying to make it turn out different, like you could turn back time and prove, once and for fucking all, that you're _worth_ something. That you might deserve just one night. One day. One _anything_."

Ishida had gone pale, his fingers curled uselessly around Renji's arm, which was still pinning him to the wall. "I don't feel like that about Kurosaki."

He told the lie softly, eyes down, fingers gripping tight enough that the nails bit into Renji's skin. His whole body sagged with the despair and futility of it, until that grip felt more like hanging on than trying to break free.

On pure hunger and spontaneous need, Renji ducked his head to press his lips to Ishida's, and kissed him. Not sure whether it would lead to outrage or violence or maybe both. But to his surprise, Ishida kissed back. Just as hungry. Just as needy. Just as fucking lonely. His mouth was warm, his tongue wet and agile, twisting itself around Renji's in dizzying spirals. Renji tugged Ishida in close, biting at his lower lip, revelling in the little cry that escaped Ishida's throat.

"I can't be gentle," Renji said. "I can't do that lovey dovey crap."

"Good," said Ishida, pushing up against him, suddenly taller, stronger, tougher. "Neither can I."

*

It was late when Renji got to Inoue's apartment. He knocked on the door, holding the roses (just a little wilted) behind his back, ready to surprise Matsumoto and claim his win. He didn't care any more what her motives were. Somehow he wasn't depressed about what Byakuya thought of him any more, just determined to prove him wrong. He felt lighter, stronger... and the memory of Ishida, tangled in white hotel sheets with a very un-Quincy-like smile on his face made Renji feel warm inside. Let Matsumoto play her games. He had an ally now. Nothing serious, they'd agreed. Nothing, thank fuck, romantic. But they understood each other, they shared needs, and Renji knew the next time either of them felt lonely they'd be back at that hotel fucking like animals until it didn't hurt any more.

No-one was answering the door. Renji frowned at the handle and rattled it, wondering whether he should break in, only to find the handle turning freely, and the door swinging neatly inwards.

Hitsugaya should have a talk with them about leaving the door unlocked at this time of night. Anyone could come in. It really wasn't safe.

"Hey, it's only me!" he yelled, as he stepped inside. "Matsumoto!" He made his way from the hall to the living room, pushed open the door and then...

Renji stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide. Twelve red roses tumbled to the floor at his feet, as he stared in disbelief at the scene in front of him.

"Oh!" said Orihime.

"Renji, you should knock!" said Matsumoto.

But Renji could hardly breathe. "You're naked," he managed to squeak out eventually. "You're both..."

"Yes," said Matsumoto, crossly, breasts bouncing as she reached for the yukata which was spread over the back of a nearby chair. "And I'd thank you very much not to look."

Too late - much, much too late - Renji turned and fled.


	3. Chapter 3

"Honestly, that Renji," Matsumoto said, pulling the yukata firmly over her breasts. It was just a little too small, and her cleaveage strained against the thin silk. "He's got absolutely no manners."

Orihime struggled for proper words, but all she managed was a small squeaking sound. Matsumoto picked up a single long-stemmed rose and dragged the petals across her lips. "Mmm, good taste, though. These are lovely."

"Wh-why is Renji-san buying you flowers?"

Matsumoto laughed. "It was a dare, that's all. He's really not my type."

"But you could be his. He's very... strong."

Matsumoto walked back across the room to the pile of cushions where Orihime still knelt, her t-shirt clutched to her breasts. "That's not enough for me," Matsumoto said.

"Um... what is enough?" Inoue whispered.

Matsumoto knelt in front of her, and gently tipped her chin up so that Orihime was looking into her eyes. Big and kind, pale lilac-coloured, like jewels. Orihime couldn't help but smile.

"I always seem to fall for heroes," Matsumoto said. "The ones with brains as well as brawn."

"Ah," said Inoue. "Me too."

And then Matsumoto's mouth was on hers, soft as summer rain, and Orihime let out a soft moan and fell back on their nest of cushions. It had only been a few days since that night, when Matsumoto had decided to move in and turn her life upside-down, but it felt like a lifetime. If it wasn't for Ichigo and Rukia and the danger they were all in.... and now Renji....

"Shh," Matsumoto soothed. "You're thinking again. Don't think tonight. There'll be plenty of time for that tomorrow. This is girls' night, remember?"

Pretty much every night had been girls' night since Matsumoto had moved in, but Orihime wasn't complaining. She wound her arms around her Matsumoto's neck. "But what about Renji? He saw us! He'll tell everyone!"

"No he won't. He's an idiot, but he knows when to keep his mouth shut. Don't you worry your pretty little head about that."

"But if-"

Matsumoto ran her fingers through Inoue's hair. "No buts. We're just girls having a night in. What business is it of Renji's, or anyone else's?"

There was something about her voice; it was so calm and soothing that Inoue found herself believing everything she said. Matsumoto offered so much. She was like a big sister and a best friend all wrapped up in one voluptous bundle. She made Inoue feel safe.

So she wrapped her arms around Matsumoto and nuzzled into her smooth, pale neck, her cheek tickled by wayward strands of soft auburn hair.

"If you're sure Renji won't say anything," she said.

"I'm sure." Matsumoto kissed her neck, the very ticklish place behind her ear. "Besides, does it really matter?"

"Well..." Orihime felt her cheeks blush hot. She couldn't quite think straight; the softness of Matsumoto's lips and the rub of her breasts against Orihime's nipples were almost overwhelming. "If Ichigo found out..."

Matsumoto drew back, and with one gentle fingertip brushed back the hair from Orihime's face.

"It's not that I'm ashamed," Orihime said. "It's that he might not understand. Boys don't always understand, and I shouldn't, but I... he has so much to do to prepare for this war, I want to help. Not distract him."

"Ah," said Matsumoto. "Your hero."

Orihime looked away, feeling suddenly very naked and exposed. Matsumoto pulled back, and when Orihime looked up again she saw her friend rummaging through the large pile of shopping bags by the table. Finally Matsumoto produced a bottle from one of them, and threw herself down at Orihime's side again with a satisfied sigh.

"Let's talk about our heroes," Matsumoto said. She ripped the foil off the top of the bottle and tugged the cork out with her teeth. Matsumoto was beautiful and amazing, and undoubtedly womanly, but Orihime was frequently startled by how unfeminine she could be. Orihime supposed it was something to do with being Leiutenant to someone like Hitsugaya. He probably wouldn't approve of unnecessary airs and graces.

"What d'you remember about the first time you met Ichigo?" Matsumoto asked, and took a gulp of whatever was in the bottle. "He saved your life, didn't he?"

"No, not really. Well, yes, he did, many times, but not when I first knew him. I think the first time I really noticed him was a little while after his mother passed away. I went to the gym to get the balls out for volleyball practise, and he was there on the bleachers. He was terribly pale, and he'd been crying. I didn't know what to say, even though I knew a little of what it felt like, so I just went and sort of sat with him for a bit. After a while the bell went for lessons, and he rubbed the tears out of his eyes and got up to leave, and then at the last minute he kind of looked at me over his shoulder, and gave me this little smile. I knew he meant 'thank you', even though he didn't say anything."

Orihime hugged her knees to her chest. "It made me so happy, to think I'd helped a bit."

Matsumuto took a long drink from her bottle. "I remember the first time I saw Hitsugaya," she said, with a wistful smile. "Well, the first time after he became captain, to be exact. It was the afternoon before his very first Captains' meeting, and he was nowhere to be found. Renji and I had searched everywhere, and then Nanao suggested the summerhouse. Well, summerhouse is too grand a word, really, it's a glorified shack. Shunsui hides there sometimes. Anyway, I went along, and sure enough, there was Hitsugaya. Sitting on an upturned crate, staring out of the window. Still wearing everyday clothes, just a tunic belted around his middle, his hair all flat and rumpled, and bare legs except for these really big fluffy white socks.

Orihime stared at Matsumoto, eyes like saucers, trying to imagine the determined, proud Hitsugaya she knew wearing fluffy white socks. Or fluffy white _anythings_, come to that.

"He looked so incredibly young," Matsumoto continued. "Just a boy. He turned to look at me and said 'ah', as if he'd been expecting to be found out eventually. I asked him if he was alright, because it was perfectly clear from the look on his face that he wasn't. But he just said 'come on. We've got work to do.' As if _I_'d been the one hiding. But I followed him without a word: out of the summerhouse, down the path, back to the headquarters building. I've been following him ever since."

"That's lovely," said Orihime, misty-eyed.

"Not so much because he's my captain," said Matsumoto. "Not even because he's so pretty, or so powerful. It's just that there was more strength and determination in that brave little kid that wore those silly white socks than I've seen in all the shinigami of Soul Society put together."

Orihime smiled, and let out a little sigh. "Perhaps our heroes aren't so heroic after all."

Matsumoto kissed her hair, and pulled her into her side. "Oh, they are, sweetheart. More heroic than anyone in the world."

Orihime let herself fall back into Matsumoto's arms, while Matsumoto scattered rosepetals on her body.

"Not quite anyone," she murmured.

_~owari~_


End file.
